Underhanded
by Talk With Your Hands
Summary: Oneshot - Sherlock wants some body parts. Molly won't give him any. He improvises.


**A short Sherlolly oneshot because I'm bored at work! Don't really know how this popped in my head, but it did.**

 **{I don't own Sherlock, nor do I make money off this. Unfortunately.}**

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Sherlock stood with hunched shoulders and a pouting lower lip as he watched Molly make another incision in the corpse she was currently working on.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock. We just have an inspection coming up soon, and I can't risk giving you any body parts right now. You'll have to make due until we've passed."

Sherlock huffed in annoyance, not for the first time, and looked away from the corpse to stare at the exit.

"Fine. The victim died from poisoning, by the way, and was beaten after the time of death; most likely in a poor attempt to make it look like a random mugging."

Molly sighed and paused in her use of the scalpel to give him a droll look through her lashes.

"Yes, Sherlock. I do remember, quite well, your experiments with the riding crop. _Poor, Mr. Acker_."

In a display of the utmost maturity, Sherlock shoved his hands into his Belstaff pockets and frowned.

"I'll just be heading back to Baker Street, then," he said blandly. "I won't be a bother if you've no hands to spare."

"Don't joke, Sherlock," Molly quipped with a smug smirk. "And please pull yourself out of your pouting soon."

He left then with a dramatic popping of his collar and a dashing flare of his coattails. Molly rolled her eyes at his display and went back to her patient.

"Do you see what I have to put up with?"

It was many hours later, when her shift was finally over, that Molly found herself back at Baker Street. She could think of nothing except about how much she really just wanted a good cuppa and a nice snuggle with Toby. Sherlock was surely still in a mood about the setback in his experiments, and therefore not an optimal choice for a cuddle partner.

When she opened the door she was greeted by the sight of Sherlock in his chair, knees up with hands steepled under his chin and eyes closed.

"Hello, Molly."

His voice was surprisingly light for what Molly expected, and she paused in the door to really look at him.

"Hello."

He opened his eyes then and grinned at her in a way that told her he knew what she'd been thinking.

"Tea things are in the kitchen," he said. "They're still hot."

She blinked and hesitated before nodding.

"Right. Thank you."

It wouldn't be the first time Sherlock had fixed her some tea, but she really had been expecting some form of a tantrum or sulking tonight. Perhaps her request had actually gotten through to him?

"You seem to be in a better mood."

She'd learned that being straightforward was usually a more effective way to communicate with Sherlock, and it usually always got a response out of him.

"I am."

His tone was casual and a warning tingle started up at the base of Molly's skull. She fixed herself a cup of tea and joined him in the sitting room. He seemed calm, and fairly still, but there was a light in his eyes that she recognized. He usually had it when he was especially pleased or excited about something.

"What did you do?"

He lifted a brow then, as if baffled, and tilted his head.

"What do you mean? I told you I was going straight home after Bart's."

"You're too happy after being told 'no'. Did you nick a liver or something?"

"Nope."  
He popped the 'p' with a roll of his lips in the way he did when being stubborn and it only confirmed to Molly that he had indeed done _something_.

There was a knocking on the flat door before she could respond and Sherlock leapt from his chair with a clap.

"Wonderful!"

He was down the stairs before she could utter _'what?'_ and she could hear him speaking with someone before he came dashing back up to the doorway. She remained sitting, for the whole ordeal had gone by in an amazing rapidity, and noted the large parcel that Sherlock proudly held.

"What is that?"

"It's a box, Molly. They're meant for holding and transporting goods."  
"Don't get smart; you know what I mean. This is what's got you in such a good mood."

She eyed the parcel with some measure of mistrust before setting her sights on Sherlock once more.

"I've never known you to be much of an online shopper. You were quite obstinate when John was trying to show you where to order a bassinet from for the baby shower."

"I've discovered that it may have its benefits."

He toted the box into the kitchen and Molly decided to follow. Really, he was much too pleased with himself. Trying to discern what he may have ordered Molly was only able to determine that he must have paid a ridiculous amount for shipping, and that it was from Amazon. So, it could be anything.

He made quick work of cutting the tape from the opening and his grinned widened as he reached into the box to pull out the contents.

Molly's eyes widened in horror as he lifted a jar out and held it up to the kitchen light to peer inside.

"That-that's a _human hand!_ "

Sherlock's satisfied grin only shone more brilliantly.

"You can inform John that, for once, he was right. They really do carry everything."


End file.
